The View
by Min Daae
Summary: For the fanfic100 challenge on livejournal, I present to you: 100 MatTuon fics! Short oneshots, varying in topic, but all about the cutest pair in Wheel of Time. Enjoy, and happy reading! [R&R, and make me happy]. UPDATED, FUR REALZ.
1. Drifting

**Title:** Drifting  
**Fandom:** Wheel of Time  
**Characters:** Mat/Tuon  
**Prompt:** 067 - Snow  
**Word Count:** 427  
**Rating:** PG (because I'm paranoid)  
**Author's Notes:** First of mine.

It was snowing in Altara.

It drifted down, pale flakes settling on the ground and lightly on Tuon's dark skin, her face upturned, staring wide eyed at the snow. It landed on her eyelashes, and she blinked rapidly, her eyelashes fluttering. It was intoxicating to watch her.

Her eyes were full of child-like wonderment, curious and amazed. She glanced at him, her large, liquid eyes so serious. "Toy," she said. "It's beautiful." He smiled and tugged at the brim of his hat.

"Yes," he said, "It is," and was speaking only partly of the snow.

"It never snows in Seandar," she said. "I heard about it, but I never went to the north. I never saw it before. I always imagined it being harder. But it's so…delicious." Her mouth rolled around the word, her accent drawing it out into three seductive syllables. She spun around, the white flakes swirling around her small boots, dotting her fur shrug with lacy specks of white. Spinning across the snowy grass, she was smiling, and it lit up her eyes so her face glowed.

He couldn't stop watching her, couldn't keep his eyes from following her every movement, lingering on her face. She glanced at him, her long eyelashes brushed by a few errant snowflakes, and laughed.

"Toy, come and play in the snow," she said, her voice drawling in a manner that he could not believe he had once found obnoxious. He waded over to her, and she tapped him with a slender finger. "It," she said, and fled, laughing, the snow swirling, distracted, in her wake.

It was so sudden. One moment she was there, real and beautiful, and then she was gone. Suddenly afraid, he shouted her name. Running in the direction she had gone, suddenly a dark hand caught his ankle and he fell, clumsily, face-first into a drift. Spluttering, he rolled over and saw Tuon, her eyes alight with that almost mocking laughter, propped up on her elbow in a drift next to him. "You are not so clever on your feet after all, Toy," she said. He opened his mouth to protest, and suddenly there she was, her hands around his head, pulling his lips up to meet hers, mingling in misty breath and cold, white, snow. Everything else was cold, but she was warm, her small body fragile in his arms. He pulled her closer, and suddenly he was face first in the drift, Tuon's laughter in his ears as she fled once again.

"Catch me, Toy," she laughed. "Catch me if you can…"


	2. Impossible

**Title:** Impossible  
**Fandom:** Wheel of Time  
**Characters:** Mat/Tuon  
**Prompt:** 068 - Lightning  
**Word Count:** 427  
**Rating:** PG (this will probably be most of mine)  
**Author's Notes:** Tuon thinks. Musingfic, as I have dubbed them. Meaning, not much dialogue.

Love was a curious thing, and not always pleasant.

Tuon had read her share of romance stories and romantic poetry, but she'd never been the kind to dream. Dreaming was for fools – those who dreamed did not often see their wishes come true, and it too often led to despair or tragedy, as they neglected reality in pursuit of dreams. Tuon was firmly grounded in reality, and proud. So Tuon had never dreamed of falling in love, had very little idea of what it would be like when she did – or if she did. To Tuon, love was a fanciful thing. Something for dreamers and fools, though the two were nearly always synonymous. When she married, she would marry for political advantage, not for love. She did not have time for love, did not have the luxury of searching for a soulmate, if such things existed.

Tuon was certainly a cynic when it came to love.

But now – love, Tuon discovered, was unlike anything else, and sometimes very akin to the too familiar emotion of fury. Tuon lost her temper frequently – in fact, her icy rages were the terror of her household. But it was not like that with Toy. With Toy, it was fiery and all consuming, something that stole her common sense away and hid it beyond finding again. She fumed, she raged, and through it all, she loved him. It was ridiculous – impossible. But there it was, as improbable as the tales of princesses rescued by simple stable boys, of love between feuding families. Impossible and true. It did not happen. Love did not happen to Tuon. But denial, unfortunately, was losing its wind.

It struck like lightning – it stole her breath away – it made her heart beat faster. It was like a sickness; insidious, creeping, hardly noticed until it was too late and Toy had wormed himself into her heart, with little chance of getting him out again. It was too powerful, too sudden – it swept over her and overwhelmed her instincts with the sheer impossibility and bliss and furious rage of it. She was as helpless as a human against a _lopar _against it as love swept her feet away and carried her away on a wave of tangled currents, sweeping her into unknown territory.

It was terrifying.

It made her angry, afraid, and joyful. It tangled her emotions into a knot in her chest that settled somewhere deep in her stomach and ached when she saw him.

She would keep denying as long as she could, and then, when she could deny no longer, she would fight.

And when she could fight no more, she would love.

It was as simple and impossible as that.


	3. Begin at the Beginning

**Title:** Begin at the Beginning  
**Fandom:** Wheel of Time  
**Characters:** Mat/Tuon  
**Prompt:** 001 - Beginnings  
**Word Count:**   
**Rating:** PG (what did I say about this?)  
**Author's Notes:** Eh, whatever. It's Mat/Tuon.

Begin at the beginning, Mat's da had always advised. When you're confused, begin at the beginning.

Well, Mat was certainly bloody confused, but he had no idea when the beginning had been, or how to begin there.

Where was it? He wonder. Where was the beginning? Was it with the Aelfinn, with the answers to his stupid questions? Was it in Rhuidean, with the memories that let to the Band that led to Salidar that led to Ebou Dar that led to the Seanchan that led to…Tuon. So many twists, so many turns that might not have been taken. But they had, and they ended her in a caravan with a sore leg and an insufferable woman who was half his wife. Blood Seanchan marriage customs.

But was that where it began? Or did it begin earlier, with Moiraine and Shadar Logoth, with the Tower, Elayne, Tear? Like a game of Stones, one move leading to another until your opponent had you in a vice and you lost. Or was it earlier, with apple brandy, whippings, sheep, his da…Rand. Old memories tangled with older, new with ancient, until it was impossible to tell the difference.

But then, he wondered, was he thinking back too far? Did it begin when he first saw her, calm and poised – a woman in a girl's body? When she first smiled, when she first touched his arm, when he first doubted…that change, so subtle and quiet and unfathomable, such a small thing that changed so much.

Or did it begin when he took her with him, when he made a decision to invite Fate into his arms and give it a dance. But now he discovered that Fate was leading him the dance that he had begun, and that bothered him. He wanted that lead. He needed that lead. Especially with Tuon.

"Your move, Toy," she said. He glanced at the Stones board.

"Yes," he said softly. "I do believe it is."


	4. Just a Little Too Near

**Title:** Just a Little Too Neat  
**Fandom:** Wheel of Time  
**Characters:** Mat/Tuon  
**Prompt:** 043 - Square  
**Word Count:** 758  
**Rating:** PG (what did I say about this?)  
**Author's Notes:** What should I say here? I dunno, really. Go…do something. Or review. Or something. Or bother me into writing the next chapter of the Owner's Manual and Guide. Never mind. The fic:

Tuon didn't like boys.

It was just a fact of life. She'd never liked them. They were, in a simplistic sort of way, inexplicably impossible to understand. And besides, they never listened, and rarely followed simple directives when they did. They bothered her. Of course, they were a good half of the court, so she couldn't avoid them. She settled for ignoring them, and cataloguing them.

Tuon was good at cataloguing things. She organized her bookshelves, lined up her shoes in neat little rows in her closet, and made lists of nearly everything. Lists helped her organize things, make order out of chaos. That was one thing that Tuon could not stand at _all. _Chaos. It bothered her more than boys – seeing them out of line, out of symmetry, disorganized. It went against her basic principles.

Servants learned to keep all quarters clean. Tuon was notorious for sweeping imperiously through the hallways without warning and, if an area was not clean to her satisfaction, taking a broom and dustpan in hand herself, and cleaning it. It didn't bother Tuon much, but it did bother her mother. Besides, Tuon had a way of looking at you when she was unhappy that just made you want to beg on your knees for forgiveness. A mixture of hurt and disappointment. She seemed to take these things personally – a lack of cleanliness the enemy, the mop her ally.

So it was only natural when she began fitting males into their own neat little boxes, finding a little niche for them to fit comfortably in, and cataloguing them into her analytical brain so they were safely contained. That one was the Loud Man, the one who talked all the time, and that one over there was the Flirt – he owned the hearts of every lady who had eyes. She mocked them, laughed at them, and swept through life entirely superior to their antics. When Tuon wanted to ignore something, she _ignored _it.

But that was before him. Before he strolled into her life, bursting through a closed door, rumpled and dirty and representing everything she hated. Chaos. Chaos was Matrim Cauthon. First, she classified him as the Rogue. Naughty, dangerous, dirty. Not someone to get involved with. Not that she was interested. He was male, after all – and most males were purely obnoxious. There were exceptions, of course. But they were, admittedly, rare. But before the end of their first meeting, she had to reclassify him again. She didn't like taking someone out of their box once they were there. It felt…unsafe.

She gave him a name, to help her fit him into her neat little catalogue of men. Toy. He would be Toy. That was easy, and him. A Buffoon, not all that intelligent, not really worthy of her respect. A Toy, in short.

But he kept stretching the boundaries she had put on him. Breaking boundaries, staying uncomfortably just ahead of her classifying him. It was just not _fair. _It made her angry. It made her frightened. She didn't like not being able to keep him catalogued. She waded through his dirty room, searching for clues to this mysterious man, resisting the urge to tidy the bed, pick up the filthy clothes. It was not her business how this man chose to keep his space. But it was hard.

She found nothing, and was left with a vague sense of dissatisfaction after speaking directly to him for the first time.

There was the _damane _kennels, and then his escape – and suddenly, he was moving too fast for her to keep up. He was a fool, a leader, a player of Stones, a flirt, clever, foxlike. Too many facets for one man. There had never been someone she could not catalogue. She had to keep him in a box, or he would sweep her off her feet and she would not be able to regain them.

He surfaced all sorts of uncomfortable desires, and feelings that she did not want to have. She wanted control back. Or part of her did.

But another part was already deciding that chaos in the form of Matrim Cauthon would not be so bad after all.


	5. Stories

**Title:** Stories  
**Fandom:** Wheel of Time  
**Characters:** Mat/Tuon  
**Prompt:** 028 – Children  
**Word Count:** 518  
**Rating:** PG (what did I say about this?)  
**Author's Notes:** Whee, I guess that kick in the ass Otter Seastar gave my muse really boosted it. Now, the warren of rabbits is really breeding. Really weird. _Really _weird.

We tell our children stories to teach them about life: love, hate, revenge, jealousy.

But there are stories hidden everywhere, waiting to be told.

Tales of princesses who aren't classically beautiful, gallant men falling in love for the first time, of dancing and rediscovering, of first times and falling in love.

There are reasons it is called falling in love – because oftentimes, it is like falling. Stumbling over something, sometimes wonderful, sometimes terrible, sometimes both. It can and will be anything.

This, then, is one of those stories.

Once there was a girl. She was royal, but she was not always happy. All too often, people are happy in stories. She was not. She was missing something she didn't know existed, and avoiding it, too. Across the ocean, there was a man. He waited for her, knowing he was waiting but not wanting to be waiting. He feared fate, did not want to be forced into anything. A flirt, a dashing man full of handsome confidence and wit, but not expecting love. So different, and yet something the same.

Something small and insignificant, something large and wonderful.

They met, eyes meeting, voices heard for the first time, something changing and doors opening, small doors that haven't yet registered. And there they are, standing in front of each other, love incarnate, but knowing nothing. Not yet. That comes later.

Love always comes later, in stories. Or, at least, it does in this story.

They trade words, voices imprinting on each other's mind. She is fascinated by him. He's bothered by her. Hands touch for the first time, and suddenly she is traveling somewhere new in a manner she has never known before. He holds her captive. It is romantic, is it not?

And still, they deny. Denial is the mark of a true love story.

Something changes, one day. One little motion changes the mark, one little change in the way he looks at her creates a spark, something that will be nurtured, loved, watched eagerly, waiting for growth.

A kiss. Chivalry rewarded with a single kiss. Love blooms, or something like it.

Gifts follow. She pretends not to care. He pretends not to notice that she is pretending. Love is all pretense. A reconsideration, a marriage. And then she is gone. Just like that.

The story is over.

"Wait," they cry, "What happened? Won't she come back?"

And she smiles a secret smile and blushes, just slightly. "Maybe," she says. "Maybe she will. We'll have to see."

We tell stories to our children to teach them about the world: hate, revenge, jealousy, death, power…love. We want our stories to end happily. Sometimes they do, but sometimes they don't. And sometimes they don't end at all.

Sometimes they just…continue.

And all we can do is hold on to that "_maybe;" _and hope.


	6. Clear

**Title:** Clear  
**Fandom:** Wheel of Time  
**Characters:** Mat/Tuon  
**Prompt:** 039 - Taste  
**Word Count:** 327  
**Rating:** PG (what did I say about this?)  
**Author's Notes:** Can music save your mortal soul?

Never mind.

Mat often wondered what love would be like.

He had plenty of experience with women, but none with love – except for a brief period when he thought that Larine Ayellin was the most beautiful woman in the world. But that was another matter entirely.

He imagined it like any other sensation, with a smell, a feel, an appearance, a music, and especially a taste.

The smell would be pleasant, but spicy, sharp, sometimes something to make you sneeze. The feel would be of wool, soft but with hidden burrs that snagged your fingers when you ran fingers over it. It would look beautiful to the eye, with small imperfections that you didn't notice until you were right beside it, with a sound of music that haunted and echoed and drew you in, enticing you into its webs.

And the taste…

Mat pondered the taste of love. Would it be hot, spicy, fervent with passion? Would it be soothing, like soup in sickness, or yielding like fresh bread? It was curious. He imagined love, placing it in his mouth, savoring it on his tongue, trying to imagine the feeling. He imagined love spicy, sweet, sour, bitter, bland, mild, flavorful… every taste he could think of.

But he'd never thought that love would be like Tuon.

Sweet and sour, bitter and wonderful…so terrible and wonderful. Love, he discovered, smelled like Tuon, felt like Tuon, looked like Tuon, sounded like Tuon. And most of all, he found, love tasted like Tuon's lips on his for the first time.

And that was better than the most passionate, perfect love that existed.


	7. WWTT?

**Title: **WWTT?

**Prompt: **077 - What?

Mat propped his chin on his hand and tried to think about something other than bloody Tuon. She had moved in and lodged up permanent residence in his head, and it was impossible to get her out now that she was in. When he heard something funny, he wondered if she would find it as amusing as he did; when he saw another woman, he compared her to Tuon – was she as clever? As daring? As beautiful?

Tuon had dusted off all the bad impulses he had ever had – sobriety, senseless courage, modesty – and turned them against him in full force. It wasn't that he _had _to stop drinking, _had _to ignore the bosomy serving girls in inns – it was just the memory of her reproachful face that soured whatever he was drinking, and her fierce temper that lowered his gaze. It was as if she had settled herself behind his eyes and was stifling all his impulses that had made life fun, and exaggerating the ones that had always bothered him. Unfortunately, she had set up shop in his heart and mind, and it looked as though she was there to stay.

What would Tuon think? Had become the unfortunate mantra of Mat's life, and it was altogether exasperating.


	8. As You Wish

**Title:** Wanting

**Fandom:** Wheel of Time  
**Characters:** Mat/Tuon  
**Prompt:** 082 - If  
**Word Count:** 327  
**Rating:** PG (what did I say about this?)  
**Author's Notes:** Eh, with the Caravan. And stuff. And nonsense. Stuff and nonsense, geddit? Cause I'm goffik. Yeah.

Tuon was watching the trapeze artists cavorting on the high wire, cartwheeling and dancing in the sky on a thin wire, like brightly colored birds, and came to a decision.

"Toy," she said firmly. "I want to try that."

He looked at her, noted her expression, and winced. "Tuon," he said in that slightly strained voice he got when he was worried and trying not to say anything, "Those people have been doing that for _years. _I don't think it would be a good idea for you to go up there without any practice. You could fall. You could break your neck!"

It was somewhat sweet that he was worried about her. Of course, it was none of his business. "Toy," she said, "You will not tell me what I cannot do."

"At least try it a little closer to the ground first," he said, firmly. It was so funny when he tried to act like he had control over the situation. She smiled, and decided to go with him, just this once.

"As you wish," she said pleasantly, and resisted the urge to laugh when his brows wrinkled in sudden consternation. She _loved _doing that to him!

"Thank you," he said at last, "for listening to reason." She pretended not to hear, and sat down daintily while Toy set up some kind of apparatus on the ground – two overturned buckets with a flat, narrow board resting between them. Tuon snickered.

"Toy, really! It's very sweet of you to worry about me, but that is hardly even a challenge. That thing is less than a foot off the ground, and it is a board, not a _string._"

Toy glanced at her, his mouth twisting wryly. "When you can walk across this thing blindfolded to my satisfaction, then you may ask Luca if you can go on the highwire. I doubt he'll say yes, but you can ask."

Tuon smiled pleasantly. "Oh, he will say yes. I am sure of it." She paused, realizing she'd missed a clause in that statement of his. "Blindfolded?"

"Yes," he said. "Blindfolded."

She gritted her teeth. He was making this so difficult! "Fine," she said through clenched jaw, trying to control her temper. "As you wish."

And that was why she found herself allowing him to tie a strip of cloth around her eyes, the brightly colored fairgrounds suddenly shut off from view. Her senses heightened – it seemed she could feel every line of Selucia's hand as she led her to the contraption Toy had set up. Selucia helped her up, pointed her in the direction of the board, and suddenly she was utterly and horribly alone. In the dark.

Determined not to show how unsure she was about this – she would see this through, even if she bloody had to _crawl _across the board – Tuon took a step. The board wobbled. She froze. "Toy," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Am I heading in the right direction?"

"Yes. Keep going."

She took another step, and another. The board swayed, and she felt a sudden sense of vertigo. "Toy!" she squeaked. "What if I fall?"

"It's not that far, Tuon."

She drew a deep breath and tried to move. She was frozen. She could see the ground, far below her. She tried to open her eyes, but all she saw was tightly woven cloth. "Toy," she said, and said the two hardest words she'd ever said. "I'm afraid."

"It's okay," he said, and she could hear the warmth in his voice. What was that about? "I'll catch you if you fall. Here, take my hand. I'll lead you across."

She fumbled for his hand and slipped hers into it, feeling the calluses on his palm, so warm and secure. She relaxed. He wouldn't let her fall. She glided across the board and stepped down, the epitome of grace. He tenderly untied the blindfold and let it fall. She blinked at the sudden influx of light, and sighed to feel the solid ground beneath her feet. "I think," she said at last. "That I will not compromise my dignity by behaving like a common performer."

Toy smiled just slightly and swept an elegant bow. "As you wish, Tuon."


	9. Colors

**Title:** Colors  
**Fandom:** Wheel of Time  
**Characters:** Mat/Tuon  
**Prompt:** 018 - Purple  
**Word Count:** 121  
**Rating:** PG (because I'm paranoid)  
**Author's Notes:** NOT FROM A POV OR WRITTEN BY ANYONE. YOU LOOK FOR THE CONNECTION.

Laugh bright beam of beauty

A catalyst fracturing light across the walls

Deep pool of eager life waiting for the plunge

Yet to be taken

The color of a face

Ultraviolet beneath the depth of human perception

Orange hints warm in a deep blue eye

Nectarine sweet almost too close

Almond eyes

Thick syrup voice

Heady perfume of pomegranates in mango air

An intoxicating addiction

Ecstasy of sweet peach flesh

Marzipan melting too fast on your tongue

Purple black blue black purple

And back again

Evening swirl of color

Nectar of a morning

Dawn of an almost perfect day

Running fast enough to circle around

Afternoon heat tingles your skin

Guarding against desire


	10. You're Driving Me Crazy

**Title:** (You) You're Driving Me Crazy  
**Fandom:** Wheel of Time  
**Characters:** Mat/Tuon  
**Prompt:** 076 – Who?  
**Word Count:** 616  
**Rating:** PG (because I'm paranoid)  
**Author's Notes:** I love Mat. I love Tuon. Therefore, I love Mat/Tuon. If that wasn't obvious already. Someday I may actually write a storyline that continues over a few chapters. May be written totally in dialogue.

"I have a secret."

Tuon was sitting on the edge of her bed, swinging her legs back and forth and boring her eyes into him. Staring. Staring staring staring. It looked like her eyes were going to fall out of her head, she was staring so hard. He waited. If she wanted to tell him, she would.

"Well, aren't you going to ask me about it?"

"No."

She scowled. It made her look younger, that petulant expression on her heart shaped face. She accentuated that charming juvenile expression by sticking her tongue out at him. She was in a playful mood. He would enjoy it while it lasted. No doubt it wouldn't.

"Well, then I won't tell you."

"Fine by me."

He tapped his heels on the ground and fiddled with his hat, refusing to rise to her bait. She wanted him to ask. He liked to play her games, but if he asked, she'd won. He didn't want her to win today. She sighed, stared at him hard, and sighed again. "You're despicable," she said finally, without a hint of real anger. He shrugged helplessly, as if to say, _It's true, and there's nothing I can do about it. _She threw back her head and laughed the clear, bell-like laugh he rarely got to hear.

"Fine," she said. "You win. For now. I think I'll tell you."

Mat let his lips curl in a smile. "Whatever you wish."

"I'm in loooove." She stretched out the vowel, drawling it exaggeratedly. He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow, a little chill running down his spine. Very carefully, he kept his face still. He was good at that.

"Oh?"

Tuon smiled cheekily at him. "Uh uh," she said, shaking a long finger at him. "My lips are sealed. You're not getting this out of me."

He shrugged again, and returned to tapping his heels on the floor. He realized that he was tapping the rhythm of "Jak o' the Shadows" and stopped. Tuon sat back and looked at him. He looked right back at her.

"You are _so _infuriating," said Tuon. She pulled her knees up to her chin and sat perched on her bed, her big eyes watching him owlishly.

"I know."

"Fine. I'll give you a hint. He's –"

"Ah, so it's a boy."

She threw a pillow at him in an uncharacteristically undignified gesture. "Hush. He's not very tall, sort of thinnish, and he has a little smile that he gets when he thinks he's winning and he's not."

Mat looked at her and raised an eyebrow. Her face was admirably smooth. "Anything else?"

"He has the strangest habit of humming something when he thinks no one is listening, and sometimes, when he's frustrated, one eyebrow goes up and the other goes down and he chews on his lip."

Mat left his eyebrow raised and lowered the other one. Tuon smiled dazzlingly at him. "And…?"

"That's all. You have to guess."

"I'm not going to guess."

"Don't be silly. Of course you are."

"Aren't you going to tell me anyway?"

"Not if you don't guess."

"Fine. Is it…Valan Luca?"

Tuon's mouth twisted in an effort to keep from laughing. "No."

"I give up. Who is it?"

Tuon hesitated. Her mouth opened, her eyes widened, and then she stood and flicked him on the nose, lightly. "I'm not telling," she said.

"What?"

"I win," she said, and fled.


	11. Weakness

**Title: **Weakness

**Fandom: **Wheel of Time

**Pairing: **Mat/Tuon

**Rating: **PG (surprise, surprise)

**Prompt: **034 – Not Enough

**Word Count:** 667

**Summary: **Tuon doesn't feel so well.

**Author's Notes: **This popped into my head. Interesting – maybe my favorite so far. We'll see.

Tuon didn't feel so well.

She sneezed loudly, and then looked pointedly at Selucia when Toy glanced back at her. She knew what would happen if she said she were sick. He would haul her off, insist that she lay down and rest or some such nonsense. Tuon wasn't some weak southerner who fainted at the slightest disturbance. She was strong. Or at least, she had to appear so in front of Toy. Besides, she wasn't that sick. Just a little woozy, and a little warm. But that was probably this unseasonable weather. And then there were the rather obnoxious sneezes. They were altogether too obvious. Toy opened his mouth as if to say something, but she glowered so fiercely that he closed it again.

Her determination not to show a hint of her sickness lasted until the shaking started. She was trembling so hard that her teeth clattered together and she felt as though she were about to fall off. Trying feebly to fend Selucia off, she was aware of an odd sliding sensation and then found herself staring up at Toy, flat on her back in the dirt. He was frowning at her. She didn't like it when he frowned at her. She tried to smile, her teeth clattering loudly. "Hello, Toy," she said. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

Everything was a bit of a blur after that, though she dimly remembered being bundled into blankets and piled into a hastily erected tent, with Selucia shouting something in that voice she had when she was worried, and Toy shouting right back. She slipped in and out of sleep, and listened to their arguments, trying to make out words and drink the water they brought her every so often.

Her head cleared for the first time to Toy's voice. "You idiot," he was saying. "You stubbornfoolish_, idiot._"

"I'm not an idiot," she tried to mumble, but it came out sounding more like, "M'not idiot."

"Oh. You're awake. Good thing, too. I think Selucia would have torn my head off if you'd been that sick much longer."

"M'not sick."

"See? That's exactly what I mean. Why didn't you say anything if you were sick?"

"M'_not _sick."

"Tuon," he said in a slightly pained voice. "You've been lying on a cot half asleep for _two days, _barely able to swallow _water. _I think that counts as sick."

She scowled. He just refused to understand! "Didn't wanna look weak," she mumbled.

"Didn't _what?_ Tuon, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of. Being sick isn't being weak. It's…sick. Who were you worried about looking weak to?"

She sighed. He was just so thick sometimes. It could be endearing, but now it just bothered her. Did he have to take every scrap of dignity she had? "You," she muttered. He jerked and his eyes narrowed.

"You felt like you had to cling to a horse until you fell off to keep from looking weak in front of…_me?" _He sounded so incredulous. She could have smiled, but she was feeling tired again. Bloody sickness. She didn't like being idle. She liked to be moving, doing. Acting. "I'm not sure whether to be flattered or insulted."

She shrugged, and smiled dreamily. "M'hm," she murmured, her eyelids heavy, dragging closed. Toy looked down at her, one eyebrow quirked, his mouth twisted in what might have been a smile. He was so adorable when he did that. She opened her mouth to tell him to stop it, and promptly forgot what she was going to say. She rolled over to her side and curled up, letting her eyes close. She felt a small pressure on her hair, and Toy's hands tucking the blankets dutifully, and tenderly, around her.

"Sleep well, Tuon," he said softly, and she couldn't find the energy to argue.


	12. Short and Bittersweet

**Title:** Short and Bittersweet  
**Fandom:** Wheel of Time  
**Characters:** Mat/Tuon  
**Prompt:** 084 - He  
**Word Count:** 311  
**Rating:** PG (what did I say about this?)  
**Author's Notes:** You know. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I thought so. Uh huh. Yeah. (Experimenting with a new style).

He was a lover, a flirt, a gambler, a risk-taker, a dancer, and sometimes a gentleman, when it suited him.

He was almost anything anyone wanted him to be, wearing many masks, playing many games.

He was not prepared for her.

He was not prepared for a sudden and spontaneous bursting into life, a sudden realization that what _must _be is not such a _must _after all.

He was not prepared for a beginning that was a beginning and not an ending, for a love that meant more than flirting and playing games, and was all about flirting and playing games.

He was not prepared for love that did not come as he expected it to.

He was a mover, a doer, a man of action and motion.

He was not a thinker, not one to ponder on the fate of the world, the direction his actions might lead to.

He was not someone who fell in love.

He was someone who stepped into love, who came into it ready and expecting one thing and one way of loving.

He was not ready for falling, for not getting the chance to step and finding that when he wanted to, there was no where to step to, because he had already gone.

He was a game-player, a tease, a handsome young man. He was everything she was not.

He was not right for her, but they fit perfectly together.

He was not going to be hers, but he belonged to her alone.

He was not a noble, and she made him one.

He was not nothing, he was not unnamed, unknown, unfelt.

He was a power to be considered, but with one touch from her, he crumbled.

He was one who laughs, who smiles, who performs his life with the drama of an actor.

He was the game-piece.

She was the player.


	13. Short and Bittersweet Vol II

**Title:** Short and Bittersweet (Vol. II)  
**Fandom:** Wheel of Time  
**Characters:** Mat/Tuon  
**Prompt:** 085 - She  
**Word Count:** 283  
**Rating:** PG (what did I say about this?)  
**Author's Notes:** New style No. 2. Tuon this time.

She was proud, dignified, sweeping through life with a cool grace akin to aloofness.

She was not one who played games, who toyed with others.

She took her life and made it what she wanted to be, but went with fate when she knew she must.

She was a fighter, a warrior in silken dresses and composed faces.

She was a queen on her throne and the world was her kingdom, obeying her will, bending to what she needed.

She was a bender, a maker, someone who could not wait for what she needed: if no one made what she needed, she made it; if no one bended for her, she bent them.

She was not helpless.

She was powerful.

She was not one to fall in love.

She was one to consider, to hold and calculate and look and ponder until every emotion had drained away and what was left were facts that gave her something solid to look at.

She was not ready to be pushed into love, to suddenly realize that there was nothing to be held, that rather it held you.

She was, perhaps, all too ready to dismiss it.

She was an empress-in-training, a power of her own, a woman in the making.

He was not her ideal, but he was perfect.

She owned everything she wanted, and he would not be hers.

She was a noble, and he made her wish she were not.

She was not nothing, unnamed, unknown, unfelt.

She was a power to be considered, but at one touch from him, she crumbled.

She was one who holds, who thinks, who considers her life with the detachment of logic.

She was the tower.

He was the wave.


	14. Meet the Parents

**Title:** Meet the Parents  
**Fandom:** Wheel of Time  
**Characters:** Mat/Tuon  
**Prompt:** 024 - Family  
**Word Count:** 605  
**Rating:** PG (what did I say about this?)  
**Author's Notes:** Possibility for spoilers, but it didn't happen. Ye have been warned.

Her teeth bared, she looked him up and down. They were ivory white glinting in a dark skinned face with flinty gray eyes. Her face was angular and hard with none of the traces of the heart-shaped softness that made her daughter so elegantly beautiful.

"So. What have we here. Are you worthy of my daughter?"

She looked him up and down. She pried his jaws open and peered at his teeth as if he were a horse. She checked his legs to make sure they were sound. "Good form, but I do not like him," she concluded. "He shall be spitted and roasted for kidnapping my favorite daughter." She raised a hand and pointed, and there was Tuon, dressed in a frilly pink gown and perched on a throne, her eyes watching him owlishly, holding a scepter topped with a raven.

As she reached for him with clawed fingernails, lacquered in the style of the Blood, he snapped upright, sweating and gasping. Only a dream then. But a terrifying one. He slipped out of the tent and found Tuon sitting by the remains of last night's fire, and sat down next to her, fidgeting nervously.

"So, Tuon, when do I get to meet your family?"

"When do I get to meet yours?"

"I dunno. Someday, maybe."

Tuon shot him a wry look. "Then for now, my answer is the same. 'I dunno. Someday, maybe.' What are your family like, anyway?"

Mat shrugged, wondering how to describe them. "My family's never done anything big and important, other than my Da winning the quarterstaff contest almost every year and being the best horse trader in our area, but I doubt you care about that."

"I'm interested in whatever you have to say."

He shrugged one shoulder and continued. "Everyone likes my Da. He has a way about him that could charm even the most stingy into selling to him, and get a good deal in the bargain. Ma and I never saw eye to eye – she thought I was too wild, and I thought she was trying to steal my fun. And then there are my sisters, Bode – that's Bodewhin, she's 19 or so, now – and Eldrin; she's about 18. They always tattled on me when I did something fun." He smiled slightly, almost forgetting that Tuon was there. Abruptly he looked up and flushed. "What about you?"

Tuon gave a little laugh that he was not sure he liked. "Ah. My family is rather like me, I suppose. Only…well, never mind. I do not think that they would approve of you, at any rate."

Mat raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"You kidnapped me, silly."

"Oh. What about your mother?"

Tuon gave another smile, small and secretive, and another laugh, this one with a hint of nervousness. "My mother," she said, "I have heard it said that I am very like her. But less so."

Mat shivered, the words sending an odd sense of foreboding down his spine. All men dreaded meeting the parents of his bride-to-be, but he had a feeling that few other men's brides-to-be had mothers who ruled over a nation that was quite possibly the most powerful in existence. This was a little more than first impressions. "What does that mean?"

Tuon looked at him for a long time without answering. Too lightly, at last she replied, "Make of it what you will. Selucia?" She stood and glided gracefully away, followed by her servant, without once glancing back at him. For his part, he stared at her back, the hairs on his neck prickling one by one until they all stood on end.


	15. Dearest

**Title:** Dearest  
**Fandom:** Wheel of Time  
**Characters:** Mat/Tuon  
**Prompt:** 003 - Ends  
**Word Count:** 679  
**Rating:** T (gasp, omg)  
**Author's Notes:** Post Tarmon Gai'don can't remember where the effing apostrophes are. Hey, give me a break.

My Dear Tuon,

It seems strange to be writing you a letter. I cannot accept that you are gone, just as I once could not accept the fact that you were here, and later could not accept the fact that I had lived without you and convince myself that I was whole. You should be here with me, talking, laughing, pushing me in the direction you want to go, shoving when a push wouldn't do. I need you.

I never thought I'd need anyone. I was fine on my own, for the most part. Oh, I liked company – especially of the female variety – but I didn't need anyone with me to feel whole. I was me; I didn't need anybody else. And then I met you, and suddenly I was only a half. Funny how that works, isn't it?

I was trying to remember the first time I saw you. Was it that day when I came in torn up from the time when the _gholam _attacked me in Ebou Dar? Was it before that, some glimpse of you on a boat far out at sea, some brief time when you walked by the infirmary and my eyes were open? I ask myself why I didn't realize sooner.

And when did I fall in love? Was it that first kiss? Or was I doomed from the moment you looked into my eyes with yours and asked how much I was for sale for? Ours is not a classic tale of love. You looked down on me. I didn't particularly like you. How did love come out of that? And why did I delay so long on letting it in?

Sometimes, as now, I look back and wish that I had moved sooner. I remember our first kiss, how I asked for more and you told me not to be greedy. I wish I had been. I wish I had been greedy, stolen kisses from you, told you I loved you, found quiet moments alone with you. I wish I had taken every moment and hoarded it, a miser of love. It is not fair for me to chastise myself for lost time, but I cannot help but wish. I wish I had savored our lovemaking, the brush of your skin, the first time we were together; memorized every inch of your skin. I wish Selucia were here, sometimes. Her acid tongued reminders of my bumbling idiocy would be welcome in these desolate days when I am reminded of just how incomplete I am without you.

I can't help but remember your face, and wish that your last words were something other than, "I love you." It seems like such a surrender. I wish it had been something that was more you, more of your strength and fiery spirit that I adore. "I told you so," maybe, or, "Toy, you're not crying, are you?" "I love you." That's all love is. A surrender. I surrendered to you. But I'm not sure I wanted you to surrender to me. Because now that I have your surrender, I don't have you. I wish I could see your face, one last time.

This is not the ending for us. This should not be the ending. Not here, me alone in a cold room with the grief, you gone. It does not feel over. Perhaps I am just wistful, longing for the days when I was young and had all of life before me. I am not an emotional person – I never have been, and I never will be. But at last, I surrender unto you completely, and tell you the truth at last.

So many names I never got to call you. Sweetheart. Dearling. Darling. Dearheart. It was always Tuon. I was afraid to take a chance, with you, afraid of naming you something you hadn't given me permission. Now I understand those last words of yours, weeks after you spoke them. It was a challenge: a challenge for me to answer back to her as she has answered to me. And I accept.

I miss you, Dearheart.

And, "No, Darling. I'm not crying. But I wish I were."

Deeply in Love,

Your Prince of Tamed Ravens


	16. Game, Set, and Match

_He bowed over her hand. "And who is this lovely and unforeseen, jewel?" _

_She looked at him, her dark eyes inscrutable. The corner of her mouth quirked slightly in what might have been a smile. She swept a graceful curtsey and inclined her head ever so slightly, the gesture of a superior to a favored noble. He blinked, surprised. "I am Kaisendrin." She offered no title, nothing more. He offered a hand, intrigued. _

"_May I have a dance?"_

"_I have injured my ankle, and am to take rest." She did not offer an apology._

"_May I escort you to the hall, then?"_

"_I have my Noriha for that, thank you." She smiled affectionately at the lady at her side, dressed in a flowing gown of purple that complemented her mistress' sapphire dress that fell to the ground, studded with small, glittering jewels. Her dark hair pulled back, she looked like the Queen of the Night herself. Desperate as she started to glide away, he called after her._

"_May I have a game of Stones, then, my Lady Kaisendrin?_

_She looked over her shoulder, her gaze pitying and mocking at the same time. "I do not play," she said clearly, and then she swept into the hall and was gone.  
_

* * *

Mat woke up blinking at the sudden influx of light. He opened his eyes and rolled out of bed, shaking the sleep from his head and running his hands through greasy hair. He sat on the edge of his bed, thinking. The dream had not been unpleasant, but it had not been his, either. It had not even been a dream. It was one of those memories that floated in and out of his head at will. He was rather used to it by now, but that was the first time they had entered his dreams. 

With a sigh, he got up, pulled on some clothes, and went outside. The morning was bright and sunny, but there was hardly anyone to be seen in the circle of tents and wagons. He went over to check on Pips and saw Tuon feeding Akein an apple. She didn't look up at him, but continued whispering to her horse under her breath. It reminded him strikingly of how she talked to Selucia when he was around. He suspected that it might be because she wanted him to wonder.

Pretending indifference, Mat fetched his saddle and cinched the girth. As he led Pips toward the border of the camp to go for a ride, he glanced back at Tuon. "Would you care to accompany me?" he asked, as if it were an afterthought. She did not look up.

"I am not in the mood for riding," she said. "Perhaps later."

He shrugged and said, "Suit yourself," but he sighed regretfully when he was sure that she was out of earshot. She seemed determined to resist all his attempts to be ingratiating. He rode ahead of the caravans a little ways and pulled Pips in, thinking. He heard a peal of laughter behind him and glanced over his shoulder. He scowled, his already dark mood darkening. Running at full speed in full sight, Tuon perched on Akein's back, a doll riding a sparrow. Just behind her, Selucia's Rosebud strained to match the razor's speed, and Tuon was laughing her rich, free laugh. He might have thought it mere accident, but a moment later she turned Akein and galloped her toward him and Pips. He reined the gelding in as she blazed past, Pips pulling to follow her at a run, and he caught a glimpse of her mocking smile as she passed him_  
_

* * *

_He sent the flowers to her room the night before, with a note that told her that he had been bedazzled by her beauty and compelled to find something to equal it. He babbled about the flowers not being equal to her, or some such nonsense, and closed with some kind of mysterious epithet. He didn't remember what he had written, at least until the note showed up on his doorstep, unopened with the flowers still attached, in the morning. She had added a small note tucked inside one of the flowers. "Dear Admirer," her precise handwriting read, "I appreciate the gift, but I am afraid I cannot accept it. Flora make me rather ill. Thank you for the gesture, but please send nothing else – I am afraid I am unable to accept gifts at this time. Kaisendrin."_

_He sat down to prevent himself from breaking something. She was provoking him, baiting him, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. But he did not give up challenges easily, and Kaisendrin certainly presented a challenge, if nothing else. Clenching his fists and releasing to relax his frustration, he tore some paper, uncapped his pen, and began drafting his reply, his mouth twisted in a grim, determined smile._

* * *

Days passed at a slow pace, Valan insisting on pausing at every cluster of houses that could plausibly be called a town, protesting that he would be bankrupt if he was forced to keep moving. Besides, he pointed out, smiling smugly, the Seanchan would be suspicious of a caravan that did not perform. He gritted his teeth and bore it as gracefully as he could manage. 

Every time he turned around, there was Tuon, her fingers flickering gracefully at Selucia as the pair of them giggled behind their hands. He scowled at her and stumped off, muttering, but she only found that more amusing. He tried smiling at her, but that sent both her and Selucia off into gales of uncontrollable laughter. He wondered if he could bribe Selucia into telling him what Tuon was saying about him. Probably not.

He was sure that she never talked about him when he was not there. Only when he looked at her would she lift her hand to cover her laughing mouth or flicker a message at Selcucia that made the both of them double over with giggles. All the time, no matter how hard she was laughing, she watched him, gauging his reaction, watching what he was doing, her wide eyes calculating, weighing, watching his every move as if he were some specimen she were studying.

The whole thing stretched his temper to the breaking point. The third day Valan Luca insisted on stopping in a village that must have had about thirty people total, Mat picked a fight with him, needing to snap at someone and not particularly wanting to snap at Tuon. When it reached the point that he was shouting at Luca that he was paying good money to get out of Altara and they were hardly getting anywhere at this pace, he distinctly heard Tuon behind him whisper loudly to Selucia, "I wonder if he's worried that if he stays in Altara he'll get picked up as Tylin's discarded Toy."

He whirled on her, and there she was, cool and composed, staring straight at him with her head tilted to one side, a little smile tugging at one corner of her mouth, one eyebrow lifted questioningly as if to ask, _you were wondering something? _At her side, Selucia was laughing, barely bothering to conceal her mirth, but Tuon herself was the picture of seriousness. He scowled at Selucia, barely resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Tuon, and walked in the other direction, leaving Valan Luca gaping after him. He caught a glimpse of Tuon moving in and resting a hand lightly on his arm. Mat, unfortunately, knew very well that they would get nowhere until Tuon wanted them to.

To make matters worse, the dreams continued. He slept well, but his memories focused more and more on this one person and his…Kaisendrin. The third time he called dark-haired Joline "Kaisendrin" and had to scramble for excuses as to why, he wondered if he ought to ask Setalle Anan for something that would help him sleep without dreams. He decided against it, but some part of him wished that if his days were plagued with Tuon, at least his nights would not be plagued with someone who might have been her sister_  
_

* * *

_He didn't get a reply from Kaisendrin. He didn't see her for the next few days. When he finally managed to corner her maidservant, she told him that Kaisendrin was unwell and was taking no visitors. Yes, she had received his letter. No, she did not plan to continue their correspondence or to accept his invitation to an evening alone to get to know each other. "Kaisendrin feels that encouraging your advances would be inappropriate at this stage in her life. She is not certain that you are the right kind of person for her."_

_She did not say that she thought she was too good for him, but it was clear enough. Once Noriha had gone, he punched the wall as viciously as he dared. "_Burn _that woman," he muttered to himself as he stalked back to his rooms. He wondered what his next move would be. Another man might give up, but her latest reply made him all the more determined. Sitting on his bed, he stared at the returned flowers and slowly smiled as he made up his mind. _

_If she would not come to him, he would just have to come to her._

* * *

Mat woke up feeling dizzily unlike himself and badly needing a drink. For a moment, reality and the dream/memory mingled and he wondered where Kaisendrin was and where he was, but he shook his head, already feeling the effects of a pounding headache that felt like a hangover, but without the pleasure of the drunk night before. Scowling already, he slouched over to the mirror and pulled out his razor. Looking at his bleary eyes and still feeling unsteady, he decided better of bringing a sharp blade near his throat. 

Leaving his itchy stubble alone, he exited into the sunlight, set on finding Thom and letting him know that under no circumstances was he doing anything this morning other than going down to the pathetic cluster of houses Valan Luca called a town and finding a tavern.

Mat was expecting Tuon to say something scathing, and prepared himself to stay silent and not lash out with the reply on the tip of his tongue. However, she just looked at him with her big, owlish eyes and smiled slightly before turning to Selucia, her fingers already flickering. Resolutely he turned his back and stalked off, stiff backed, ignoring the giggles that trailed after him.

He found Thom shamelessly showing off for a gaggle of admiring young women from the village. He rolled his eyes and called to Thom. He bowed, flourishing his cape (not his gleeman's patches, but he had managed to procure one from somewhere) and excused himself, leaving the girls whispering among themselves.

"Aren't they a bit young for you?" Mat said wryly. Thom blew out his long moustaches and scowled.

"Don't be ridiculous, Cauthon. I was just practicing, and this young crowd happens to appreciate talent." Thom affected an offended air, every inch the offended _artiste. _

"You should have been an actor," Mat told him. "Listen. I'm feeling desperately in need of something sharp and alcoholic this morning. Can you keep an eye out for things while I go to town and hunt down a tavern?"

"What, without me?" Mat scowled at Thom, and the old gleeman threw up his hands. "Fine. But I doubt that much will happen without you here to cause your mischief."

Mat clapped Thom on the back, already feeling a little better. "Good. I'm off, then. Don't expect me to be useful for the rest of the day. I'm planning on getting a little drunk."

Before Mat left, he turned and looked back at the girls already clustering around Thom again. "Be careful around him," he warned them. "He's very quick with those juggling hands of his." Thom scowled at him, and Mat flashed him a grin. As he strolled off down the hill, he thought he heard Thom talking to the girls.

"Don't believe a word he says about me. Jealous, he is. Tried to teach him the art, but too clumsy to be any good..." Mat shrugged to himself, muttering about clever tongued gleemen, and shut out the distant sounds of the waking circus, humming 'I'm Down At the Bottom of the Well' to himself.

A few of the patrons in the town's only tavern looked at him strangely when he asked for ale this early in the morning, but apparently his status as an obvious foreigner, and the prospect of getting money from a rich outland lord, out weighed suspicion in the bartender of the Dancing Badger. The sign was well painted and the inside was well lit, but cramped. It was better than most of the taverns he'd been in recently, at least, though it reminded him altogether too much of the Inn at home.

Still, the drink was good, and before too long Mat found himself dancing with a pretty girl who wouldn't have been out of place at a Two Rivers Beltine celebration in her modest dress and braided hair. Still, she was pretty, and a good dancer, too. He didn't recognize the music or the dance, but soon enough he picked it up and was dancing just as well as any of the locals. He'd always been good with his feet. And his hands, too, whatever Thom said.

Mat had just passed off the Beltine girl, whose name was Faloia, and picked out another partner, this time a petite, dark haired woman, when he felt the hairs on his neck prickle and looked instinctively over his shoulder. There in the doorway, her gaze sweeping the inside of the Dancing Badger, Selucia standing beside her as always. At least she was wearing the curly wig he'd bought to disguise her distinctive lack of hair. His first instinct was to drop the girl he was whirling around the floor like a hot potato and slink out the back, but Mat scowled at the thought of creeping away from her like a whipped dog. Instead, he pulled out a smile and put it on, laughing and pretending not to notice Tuon. He could feel her watching him, but pretended not to until the dance brought him closer to her table. Mat looked straight at her and winked broadly, resisting the urge to laugh out loud at her sour expression.

He danced for a few minutes longer and then spun the girl off to another partner, waved off Faloia's offer of another dance, and snagging a drink, made his way across the floor of the Dancing Badgerto the table where Tuon and Selucia sat, the one delicately sipping a glass of something that smelled fruity and sweet, the other with her nose wrinkled in blatant disgust and disapproval. Surprisingly, it was Tuon who looked less perturbed.

As he approached, Selucia gave him a look that would have fried raw eggs, and Tuon didn't even look up from stirring her fruit cocktail. "Ah, Toy," she said smoothly,her voice mildly disinterested. "Fancy seeing you here."

"What a pleasant surprise." Mat swept an elegantly exaggerated bow. "Selucia, whatever is the matter? You look as though you have swallowed an apple core." Selucia's eyes narrowed, and her mouth thinned dangerously. He bowed slightly to her, letting his mouth quirk in a smile that verged on mocking. Her expression grew so indignant that he could hardly believe that her eyes weren't falling right out of her head and onto the floor. Mat looked back at Tuon. "Tuon. What do you do here?"

She blinked up at him, her big eyes the picture of innocence itself. "I merely thought that while we delay for a few days while Master Luca restocks the caravan, I would explore this…quaint…little outfit."

"A few!..." Mat cut himself off and pulled up a chair, sitting down heavily. "Well. There's not much to explore, as you can see. I'll leave you two ladies alone." He needed another drink. This was all Tuon, he was sure. Luca had restocked the supplies in the last town, less than three days ago. But this delicate game they were playing would certainly not allow him to accuse her of that. He just wished that she moved a little more slowly, so he'd at least have time to counter her. He caught a glint of gold across the room, and strolled over.

Three men were spinning dice on the table in an unfamiliar gambling game. After a few rounds, the game was finished, and Mat thought he'd picked up the theory, or at least enough to try it. His fingers itched to try his luck. "May I?" he asked the men, who nodded and moved aside for him to pull up a chair. He was just sitting down when he heard a voice behind him.

"Ah. Kings. I know this game. May I join you, gentlemen?" Tuon's accent was barely audible in her suddenly smooth voice. Mat clenched his fists on the arms of his chair and gritted his teeth, but the others were already welcoming her with smiles and polite questions. Just like the Two Rivers. He scowled, and tugged on his hat.

"Let's play," he said shortly.

Distracted, he threw his first toss. The Dark One's Eyes. A losing toss, in this game. He sat back, frowning determinedly at the dice. Tuon took them next, shook them for a moment, and dropped them on the table. She exclaimed slightly at the pair of sixes that peered at her from the table, smiling widely. She gathered the winnings in the center of the table with a small smile, and dipping her hand into a purse at her belt that Mat hadn't noticed, set out three gold coins. The other men's eyes bugged wildly, and so did Mat's. He gave her a hard look, sure that she had snitched that money from him. He wasn't going to let her get away with this.

"I raise," she said softly, and looked straight at him, her head tilted slightly to one side, one eyebrow quirked, as if he were a strange specimen she was attempting to figure out. He attempted to ignore her, and pulled out three of his own gold coins with a sigh. "Match," he said, regretting getting into what seemed to be becoming a very expensive game.

Several rounds later, when the others had long since dropped out when Tuon raised the stakes past their affordability, Mat gritted his teeth and sighed. He held up his hands and pushed the dice cup into the center of the table. Tuon looked at him, her white teeth bright against her dark skin. "I win," she said, and Mat had a nasty feeling that she meant more than the game_  
_

* * *

_It took him a few days to find out where Kaisendrin's rooms were. Not many servants seemed to know. But by luck, he caught a female maid in the hallway bring towels embroidered with the crest he remembered from her stationary, and badgered her into telling him where 'the Lady Kaisendrin' roomed with her servant. He mused for a while on whether it would be worth the effort needed to get rid of Noriha so he could speak to Kaisendrin on his own, and decided that it probably wasn't. Besides, she would cause more trouble, he felt, if she were unobserved. She could easily spread rumours if she was not there to see his and Kaisendrin's interaction. _

_He went down to town and commissioned an artist to form what he needed for his mission, and began preparing, in his mind, exactly how everything would go. At last his gift was ready, and he walked through the hallways, following the memorized passage to Kaisendrin's rooms, holding his precious package delicately and trying to ignore the nervousness fluttering in his belly. He knocked on the door, politely, and waited. A few moments later, it opened to reveal a perfectly composed and stunningly beautiful Kaisendrin, looking as though she had expected him all along. _

_He gaped at her for a moment, then recovered his wits and allowed careful memorization to take over. "My Lady," he said, "To compensate for the unfortunate mistake with the flowers earlier, and to help highlight your wondrous beauty, I have brought you a precious gift." He offered his carefully wrapped bundle to her. She looked surprised, despite herself, but the expression was gone, replaced so quickly by an expression of polite disinterest that he wondered if he had imagined it. She set down the package and smiled slightly. _

"_I am currently waiting to meet with an acquaintance. I am afraid I cannot take visitors. I will open it later and be sure to do with it as I see fit. Thank you." It was a dismissal that verged on rude. He allowed her to shut the door in his face, but stalked back to his rooms, scowling. _

_A few days later, he found what she meant by 'what she saw fit.' Walking through the halls, hoping to happen upon her, he noticed a glint of glass through an open door. He looked through as he passed, and glimpsed Kaisendrin handing an old servant woman the priceless bouquet of flowers with a benevolent smile. She looked at him briefly and smiled, her eyes mocking him. When he got back to his room, he found a note slipped under the door on scented stationary, imprinted with the initials K.S. It had one line, and no signature. She didn't need one._

_He read it twice and kicked viciously at his armoire, screaming his rage loudly enough that a servant stopped to ask if everything was all right with his Lordship. The poor thing nearly got a pottery vase in his face for his trouble. He sat down on his bed and stared at the note for several more minutes, trying to cool down, the curls and curves of her handwriting slowly becoming meaningless even as the two words twisted him further into rage._

"_I win," it said._

* * *

Mat woke up late with a headache that felt less like a hangover and more like an actual headache, which was peculiar. He wasn't really surprised, though – Tuon would give any sane man who was stuck with her a headache. He rolled out of bed and shaved without cutting himself too much, despite his aching head. And with the help of that woman from his dream, Kaisendrin, it was surprising that he wasn't insensible. He could have sworn the pair were related, if he hadn't known that Kaisendrin and her admirer had probably lived centuries ago. 

Something on the table in his caravan caught his eye, and upon closer inspection he realized that they were Tuon's winnings from yesterday. With a scowl, he tucked them away, wishing that he had enough money left after that foolish game with her to be able to refuse the gift. He didn't like getting something from Tuon. It felt uncomfortably like a gift from an Aes Sedai.

With a sigh, he went outside, expecting to see Tuon and Selucia waiting to taunt him, but the caravans were mysteriously empty. A few of the performers scurried back and forth, but on the whole, there was no sign of either Thom, Valan Luca, or the pair he'd been dreading. If he hadn't seen the caravans around him, he would have guessed that Tuon had told Valan Luca that they were to leave without Master Matrim Cauthon.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down on the nearest bench and wondered what he was supposed to do. A whinny from the tethers reminded him of Pips, and he resolved to take his horse out. At least he could do something while the others went gallivanting off without him. Burn him if he was going to sit on a bench and mope for the whole morning.

He saddled Pips and pulled himself up, tapping the gelding's sides to push him into an easy trot. He noted that Luca's stallion, Akein, and Selucia's Rosebud were gone, and scowled. If they were hoping for him to come trailing after like a tardy child, they would be sorely disappointed. He guessed that they had ridden ahead, so he pulled Pips head around and headed in the opposite direction. With a small smile, he followed a narrow track just off the main road the circus was following, his mood already brightening a little. He had gone a little ways when he heard a burst of laughter from ahead, the familiar full-throated laugh of Tuon, followed by Selucia's girlish laugh. Mat groaned, but didn't bother to halt. He could see them ahead of him, and Tuon was already looking back and pointing. He could practically see her saying to Selucia, "Look, the poor little Toy has decided to tag along."

With a scowl, he kicked Pips into a canter and soon caught up to the pair. To his surprise and dismay, Thom and Luca were not with them. "What are you two doing, riding out on your own without even an attempt at disguise?" were the unfortunate first words out of his mouth.

Tuon frowned. "No one is out here. We are far from the town and there are no farms near to here. This is not populated country, Toy." She sounded annoyed, and Mat winced, wishing he could take his words back. Well, he had started this argument, and he would finish it. And win, too.

"How would you know that? There are people who live in the woods or on their own, far from others. What if you had met one of those? You aren't dressed like you are from here; how would you explain your presence?"

"We are from the circus that has stopped by the town. Anyone would accept that."

"And what if you had met a Seanchan patrol? Neither of you exactly blend in. They could recognize you at least as one of the Blood. And if I know anything about your customs, they might suspect you of being pretenders to being of higher status than you are. You could be killed. And even if you weren't, you put me and my friends, not to mention the caravan, in danger. Did you even _think? _At the least, you could have taken Thom or Luca with you – someone to make sure you don't make some mistake. You still don't know anything about the way things work around here, and you oughtn't to go anywhere alone until you do!"

Tuon, surprisingly, looked sulky. "They were going to the village to look around."

"Then _why _under the _Light _didn't you wake me up?"

Tuon looked down, her face fixed in an unfamiliar scowl. She didn't answer.

"If this is about your bloody pride or your bloody game, then I forfeit. I am not going to have you risking all our necks for some foolish, childish _game, _no matter what you think is at stake."

Selucia opened her mouth angrily, set to berate him for his mouth or the way he was speaking to the Daughter of the Bloody Nine Moons, but Tuon glanced at her and flicked her fingers. Selucia looked surprised and waved a message back. Tuon scowled at her and moved her fingers in a perfunctory message that he sensed meant, "Be quiet and mind your own business."

She looked back at him and lowered her eyes. She looked...demure. And...sheepish. He could hardly keep from his mouth dropping open. She dismounted from Akein and began to speak. "I am sorry. I have judged badly and risked myself and others. I resign my responsibility for this horse unto you, and ask that you will consent to teach me more of the customs of your land."

Mat's mouth did drop open now. He gaped at her. He wouldn't have been more surprised if she had started swearing and calling him 'Mat' instead of 'Toy'. He swung off of Pips, ignored the glare Selucia was giving him, and took the reins that Tuon was offering. He examined them silently, unsure of what to say. With a sigh, he pushed them back into her hand. "Don't be silly," he said, his voice feeling rough. "I gave you that horse as a gift. I'm not going to take my gift back. Keep her. Just...next time you want to go riding, get me or Thom or Noal or at least one of the Redarms. And if you want me to teach you about something, just ask."

Tuon looked up at him, her gaze now calculating and curious, examining him closely. She smiled, slightly. "I will," she said softly, her familiar, confident drawl back. "Selucia. I think we should be going back." She turned Akein toward the caravan. "Oh, and Toy – when we get back, I would appreciate it if you would join me for a game of Stones with me." She tapped her heels into the razor's sides and sped off, Selucia throwing him one last dirty look before galloping off after her master_  
_

* * *

_He found an excuse to get out of the town as soon as possible. He didn't want to have to see Kaisendrin gliding along with a smug expression on her face, knowing that she had won. He thought if he saw her give him that mocking half-smile one more time, he would probably have to strangle her. _

_He got himself a patrol that rode the hills around Ebou Dar and scouted for the things that supposedly were half beast, half man and hunted like both. A few weeks passed before he found himself in a situation with any real danger, and he had begun to think that the so-called Trollocs were traveller's tales or women's legends told to keep the children in line. _

_He and a small group of other men were riding out a little further, scouting a little farther away than they had before, when they heard a piercing, female scream. _

_If it had been a story, he would have raced off immediately without a thought to his own safety. As it was, they formed into the closest they could get to an attack formation, and kicked their horses into a uniform canter, wary of traps. Another scream burst from the small copse ahead, and they hurried forward, more sure, and soon they burst into a clearing, their horses rearing and trying to run from the foul stench that rolled off the creatures in the clearing. The pair was enormous and hugely muscled, one with the head of a hawk and the other with the head of a goat. His eyes flicked across the clearing, trying to take in a seemingly impossible scene. They moved over the carcass of a horse with its side laid open, the hawk-headed beast lifting its blood covered head from its feast and made a gobbling noise in its throat. He noticed the curved, cruel blade clutched in its clawed fist and moved away over the second beast, moving back and forth with teeth bared in a grimace or snarl. His eyes froze on the crumpled figure behind a solidly set woman holding a stick, her cheek slashed and bloody, wavering slightly, but shouting determinedly, "Get back! Get back!") _

_He recognized the indigo dress through the mud spatters, the pale cheeks, and the long dark hair matted against her head. It was Kaisendrin, and the woman trying to valiantly to defend her master was Noriha, the despised harridan. He could see no wound on the fallen lady, and hoped that she had just fainted from fright. From the corner of his eye, he saw his comrades fighting the hawk-head, one already writhing on the ground with a gash in his belly. He winced and looked away, setting himself to defend Noriha and her mistress when his commander swept past him and directed him brusquely to go to the unattended lady and see to her._

_He dodged behind the rock, trying to ignore the roar of rage that sounded uncomfortably close, trusting his commander to deal with the creature that he now realized was a Trolloc. He bent down next to her, wishing he had some smelling salts or something else genteel to use to wake her up. Instead, he pulled up some foul smelling weeds from beneath the trees nearby and waved them under her nose. Kaisendrin coughed and opened her eyes. For a moment they were blank, and then they cleared with recognition. "You," she said sourly, and then the Trolloc roared behind them, and her eyes rolled back as she went limp in a swoon, again._

* * *

When they got back to the caravans, Thom and Luca still hadn't returned, and the circus was even emptier. The sun was beginning to fall, and Mat assumed that they had probably gone down to the town to entertain and be entertained. Glad that he and Tuon would have some time to themselves – with Selucia, of course – and with the prospect of a Stones game with Tuon, his mood had brightened. Tuon dismounted and tied Akein, removing her light tack and grooming her quickly. Selucia was finished just as quickly, and Mat watched them out of the corner of his eye as he removed his own tack and groomed the sweat out of Pips' coat. 

Tuon flicked a message to Selucia, who shook her head and crossed her arms under her marvelous bosom. Tuon widened her eyes and drew herself up, flicked the same message again. Selucia stared at her, her fingers moving slowly, reluctantly. This time, Tuon's motions were perfunctory, almost annoyed. Selucia turned on her heel and stalked away, her back radiating affront and disgruntled frustration.

Tuon looked satisfied. She smirked after Selucia's retreating back, and turned to face Mat, offering her arm. "Well?" she said quietly. "Shall we, Toy?" He grimaced, but supposed that he couldn't expect too much change in one day. She set up the board and took the first turn. He looked at the board for a while before responding, already looking forward to the challenge.

She moved her stone, and without looking up, said, "Selucia is not here, so I may speak more freely than I might otherwise. What do you suggest for the stakes of this game?"

"Stakes?"

"Without something at stake, there is no game."

"I never pegged you for the gambling type."

She smiled, a mysterious little grin. "There are many things about me you don't know." With any other woman, it would have been blatant flirtation, and maybe even an invitation. With Tuon, it was almost a warning. Or maybe just a reminder.

"Fine," she said. "What will you give if you lose?"

"Give yours first, and I'll match it."

"If you win, I will call you Mat and not Toy, and you may kiss me."

He stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I am joking?"

He stared at her, and decided that she didn't. "That's a difficult wager to meet."

She smiled, but said nothing. He thought for a while, and finally sighed. "If you win, Tuon, I will do your will in all things that do not put my men or anyone in the caravan in danger. And I will not complain about you calling me Toy."

She smiled, a little patronizingly, and turned her hand up on the table. "Set," she said. "And agreed." He looked at her hand, wondering if he was supposed to do something, but after a moment she pulled it back and looked at him intently. "Your turn."

He moved.

The game continued for a long time, and he lost track of the things they talked about, though he remembered mentioning his sisters once or twice, and Tuon asking him about what he had been like as a child. It finished on the sixty fifth stone, when he finally trapped her, and she sat back with a sigh.

"Well played, Mat. I have not played such a game in years. Even Selucia is not at the same level as you."

It was a compliment, and for a moment he hardly registered it for the use of his name. It sounded strange, in her voice, drawn out and drawled, but it did not sound bad. Only strange. "Thank you," he said at last. "You played very well also."

She looked at him, her owlish eyes wide, and stood. "You may take the second part of your stakes, Mat. I owe you a kiss."

He stared at her for a few moments, meeting her eyes, and moved closer to her, letting his arms slide around her waist, tenderly lowering his mouth onto her full lips. She was small and warm and felt fragile in his arms, but he could feel the current of strength and energy surging through her. Her lips tasted like ripe, fresh fruit, heady and sweet. Her eyes were closed, and as he released her, she swayed, a little smile on her face. She let her eyes remain closed for a few moments, and then she opened them and was business once again. She smoothed her riding dress and looked him up and down critically.

"I am going to fetch Selucia. We will go into town and (find somewhere to eat dinner. You should get changed. You look a little scruffy." Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded. Then, he cleared his throat and spoke slowly, warily.

"Tuon, eh, tomorrow. Would you like to go riding with me? With Selucia, of course?"

She tilted her head, considering for a moment. "That would be very fine," she said. "Yes, T-Mat. I will ride with you."

He allowed himself a small victory smile as he exited, and he thought he caught glimpse of her in her mirror, her eyes closed and a blissful smile on her face. She was beautiful_  
_

* * *

_She woke up in the infirmary to the much more pleasant scent of herbs and flowers. He smiled at her, gamely. "I'm sorry about the flowers," he said. "I told them you were badly affected by them but they simply refused to believe me."_

_She looked at him for a few moments, then let her head collapse back onto her pillow, closing her eyes wearily. "I'm rather tired right now," she said evenly. "I would appreciate it if you would leave me."_

"_The nurse advised that you move around a bit, do some light exercise. She said it will make you feel better."_

_She stared at him. "What are you doing here, anyway?"_

"_My commander gave me responsibility of you after we found you and your lady being attacked by Trollocs. As I recall, he told me to 'attend to the lady.'"_

_Kaisendrin turned her face away from him, into a bouquet of flowers. "Careful, there," he said lightly. "We wouldn't want you to be getting sick from the flowers that were sent to cheer you." _

"_So. What did she tell you?"_

"_That you were lying about the flowers. That's all I asked. Though she was grateful enough to me for taking care of you that she would have told me anything. 'Oh, that Kaisendrin,' I think she said. 'She is such a tease. She just didn't-"_

"_Stop. Just stop. Whatever she said, she's given you the wrong idea. I need to get out of here and get back to my rooms."_

"_No, I think I have very much the right idea."_

_He looked at her, and she looked at him. Kaisendrin looked down first. "Fine," she said. "Maybe flowers don't make me sneeze. So what? It doesn't really matter, does it?"_

"_I don't know. Does it?"_

_There was silence for a few moments. "I have to go," said Kaisendrin briskly. She got up. "I need to be riding for home. Already I've been gone too long."_

"_Ah ah. Sorry. Healer's orders. No strenuous activity for a week, just to make sure you're not hurt. You won't be going anywhere." _

"_Aren't you happy about that."_

"_I am. I would love to further make you acquaintance, Kaisendrin. Might I suggest a game of Stones? Noriha tells me you play."_

_Kaisendrin sighed, and offered her arm. "Fine. One round. You may escort me, if you wish."_

_He smiled slightly, and nodded. "I do," he said. "Wine or tea?"_


End file.
